


Mambo Madness

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: When it comes to pop culture Greg is the smartest in the room, especially when that room is 221B.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



_Describe in detail the events that led to the injury sustained by the suspect._

Greg stared at the blinking curser and tried to find the right words. Damn it. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he described, in detail, how their suspect ended up with a mild concussion and a sprained wrist.

_Suspect charged at Sherlock Holmes, (Consulting Detective), who defended himself from bodily harm by performing the lift from Dirty Dancing. Suspect panicked and over balanced resulting in noted injuries._

Greg’s head bounced none to gently off his desk. It didn’t look any better typed up, bugger it all, he’d flag this one for Mycroft and let him deal with this bloody nonsense. The special text alert on his phone sounded; the one he’d assigned to Mycroft. Greg glanced at the CCTV camera in the corner of his office and grinned at the thought that Big Brother was watching.

_Baker Street, please. Conflict resolution required. MH_

Well that didn’t sound ominous at all.

He arrived at Baker Street to the sounds of an argument. From the stairs he could hear both Holmes brothers, Mrs Hudson, John and Rosie. Readying himself for bedlam Greg took a deep breath and stepped into the fray.

Over the years Greg had walked in on all manner of crazy sights; from John and Sherlock covered in printers ink yelling at each other, to a mannequin hanging from the ceiling; experiments he shuddered to recall and a panic stricken detective trying to write a best man’s speech. None of these really prepared him for the sight of Sherlock holding John above his head.

“What is it with you and Dirty Dancing?”

Sherlock lowered John to the floor and opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs Hudson got there first; “He’s practising for a dance competition with Molly.”

“And his form is appalling for the lift.”

Sherlock scowled at Mycroft’s comment, so missed Mrs Hudson nodding in agreement. Rosie chose this moment to throw her rattle to the floor; Greg automatically picked it up and sat on the sofa next to the youngest Watson and Mrs Hudson. After returning the toy, he said; “Okay this is probably a daft question…”

“Bound to be.”

“Sherlock.”

“…but, why aren’t you practising with Molly?”

All eyes fixed on Sherlock, who was now fiddling with his letter stabbing knife. Greg tilted his head as Sherlock unusually remained silent.

“You’re scared of dropping her, aren’t you?”

The mantelpiece took a vicious stab, and Greg knew he’d hit the nail on the head. Sherlock spun around with a dramatic sigh, his hands raking through his hair.

“Yes! Alright, I’m scared I’ll drop her. I can’t hurt her anymore.”

John and Mycroft shared a look, Mrs Hudson made a noise of sympathy and Rosie threw her rattle on the floor again. Greg picked it up and inadvertently entertained Rosie by waving it around as he spoke.

“You know the best place to practise lifts don’t you?”

Sherlock gave him a hopeful look, and it dawned on Greg that he hadn’t recognized the reference.

“Have you watched Dirty Dancing? Any of you?”

Mycroft’s sharp negative was expected; John shrugged and muttered something about ages ago; Mrs Hudson shook her head and Sherlock said: “I watched the dance scene on YouTube.”

Greg bit the inside of his cheek as he tried not to laugh.

“They practise the lift in water, a lake, but I guess a swimming pool would do. Can’t hurt Molly if she’s got water to land in, can you?”

Sherlock blinked at Greg, and then bounded across the room and disappeared into his bedroom. A moment later he rushed out clutching a bag, the front door slammed and John clapped his hands together.

“Cuppa anyone?”

Greg nodded; “When is this dance competition?”

Mycroft hooked his brolly over his arm and strolled to the door, as he passed Greg he said; “Eighteenth of February. My car will pick you up at six. I’ll see you then, unless Sherlock gets into more trouble beforehand.”

Greg and Mrs Hudson shared a grin, Sherlock and Molly were going to have a cheerleading squad whether they wanted it or not.


End file.
